


Freeze Frame

by ArcanaMajor



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 11:45:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6853297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcanaMajor/pseuds/ArcanaMajor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A.k.a. as the fic series, hopefully, where they kind of become a thing and/or date while both valiantly pretend they don’t. Also, Tyler Breeze is a whiny bitch and Fandango tries very hard not to love him for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m not going to fall in love with you.”

 

Fandango turned, hands stilling where they’d been fixing some disarrayed strands of hair. He snorted, rather unattractively if he had to admit, because that wasn’t quite the opening line he’d been expecting. And he had expected this conversation.

“Oh?”

 

The door was pushed shut with an agile foot, then used for some suave leaning. Tyler Breeze’s face showed contempt, mixed with a hint of uncertainty. For such a vain, confident man it must have been a novel thing to feel.

“If that’s your aim with this whole white knight bullshit you can forget about it.” 

Blond hair was pushed derisively behind an ear and Fandango smiled at the fire in the man’s eyes. Oh, he sure wasn’t having any of this imagined romancing. How hilarious.

“I have a difficult enough time with my immense love for myself,” Tyler continued. Fandango watched, entranced. “I don’t need some dancer getting ideas.”

“This dancer has no such ideas, don’t worry.” He grinned, then scratched absently at his stomach. Tyler’s eyes followed momentarily and Fandango didn’t miss that they swooped down to glance over his abs. Tyler Breeze could recognize beauty other than himself, it seemed.

“Also -” Tyler clearly wasn’t done yet. “I won’t date you. I don’t date. So don’t expect walks on the beach and dancing at moonlight.”

“You have made way too many assumptions about why I did what I did. I promise you walks on the beach did not enter the picture at any point whatsoever.” He paused. “Watching you dance, maybe, but not quite in the way you’re imagining.”

Tyler’s eyes glittered and his grin turned smug. As if he’d been waiting for this. For some kind of confirmation. Something that affirmed what he’d been thinking. His voice had a harshness to it Fandango hadn’t heard before when the blond spoke next.

“Sex, then. That’s what you want.”

He sighed. “You’re making assumptions again.”

“Well, it sure isn’t because of my in-ring results.”

They stared at each other and Fandango could see something like pain behind the stark blue eyes. Something like defeat. 

“I’d watch you because I like watching beautiful people move, you know. A partner like that wouldn’t be a chore,” he admitted. It wasn’t quite why he’d betrayed his partner, but it would do. And the verbal sparring was quite a turn on. “That doesn’t mean I’m asking for sexual favours.”

“Eh, you wouldn’t be the first.”

It was said in such a casual, off-hand tone that Fandango was struck dumb. Sure, he knew their business was a questionable one, but Tyler Breeze was downright gorgeous and seemed to vibrate with several shades of ‘do not approach’. That people would be so brazen came as a surprise, even though it probably shouldn’t.

“What,” came the incredulous response to Fandango’s silence. “they don’t suggest you’d look good on your knees? Guess you’re not in my league.”

 

Fandango scowled, more at the casual way Breeze was talking than anything else, and he watched carefully, eyeing the way he’d moved towards him. All graceful movement and confidence, where his voice had shook and his eyes had died the moment he mentioned how he was sometimes treated. A shell. A shield. A mask hiding things Fandango hadn’t expected. He probably should have.

The blond man stopped right next to him, peering at him curiously and pushing an errand stray of hair behind Fandango’s ear. It made him shiver, then scowl even more. This wasn’t a game.

 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist just because I’m better looking than you,” Tyler groused playfully, probably misunderstanding his look. His lips were dangerously close now, breath hot against his neck. A hand delicately sloped down his neck, then chest, just grazing his stomach before dropping away. Lights danced in the blond’s eyes, but Fandango wasn’t sure they weren’t manufactured and they looked oh so fake. Created by a man who knew how to sell himself and that in a business such as theirs 'pretty’ got you far. Also into dangerous situations, but Fandango dared not mention that.

So instead he smirked, pushing back the urge to touch in return. “That’s debatable.” 

He wasn’t going to be one of them. Even if he could. Considering he knew what he looked like too, he’d say he had a good shot at talking anyone into his bed. Even this vain creature who tempted and teased and based his self-worth on just that. But it’d be a hollow victory because Tyler was all too willing to give and yet not giving anything willingly at all. Like a dog who’d been taught bad habits and now bit the hand that fed it.

“I don’t want anything from you,” he once again assured. “I have enough baggage without adding yours.”

Tyler smirked. “Literal or metaphorical?”

“Both. Definitely both.”

“I’d be interested to see what that baggage entails. High heels and lots of lube, I’d wager?”

“My kinks are mine alone, pretty boy.” Fandango tried desperately to ignore the way Breeze was leering at him. As if he had a wicked imagination and wasn’t afraid to use it. Again it looked fake, though. As if he were going through the motions and was stuck forever on the decision whether to be flirty or disinterested. The default seemed to be flirty, though, if the swing of his hips and suggestive glance down Fandango’s body was anything to go by.

“I’d be happy to rate them for you. It’s probably nothing I haven’t seen before.”

 

“I’m sure you’re an expert. Still not interested. In dates, kinks, or otherwise.”

“You sure?” Tyler asked, mouth tilting in amusement and hand dropping down to grip Fandango’s burgeoning erection through sheer pants. When had that happened? “Your dick doesn’t seem to agree.”

“My dick,” he spoke calmly, removing the hand before he enjoyed it a bit too much, “finds you beautiful too. Doesn’t mean it wants to date you.”

 

A quick nod. “Probably for the best.”

Then a sigh.

 

“I suppose you’re not bad. For someone so…” Fandango tilted his head, waiting for the response. He bristled when it came. 

“For someone so common.” 

The way Tyler was looking him over said very little other than display his mild approval, but it made Fandango’s hands sweat nonetheless. He didn’t often find himself faced with someone who rivalled him and this man was certainly prettier than he’d ever claim to be. Someone whose words were as sharp as his expressions were cool. It made his pulse race in unfamiliar patterns. 

Tyler looked him in the eye once more, then waved his hand dismissively. “Just don’t get any ideas. Remember, I don’t date. And people certainly don’t date guys like me. This isn’t going anywhere. Some casual sex at best.”

“Okay.”

If the other man considered his quick agreement an insult, he couldn’t tell, but they did stare at each other for just a second before Tyler shrugged his shoulders and casually dropped his pants before heading for the showers. Fandango shamelessly watched him go, because if they’d established anything it was that he did love watching beautiful things. Even if his dick was rock hard and the show wasn’t even halfway done yet.

He sighed, thinking of less pleasant things. Not hot mouths and the words that fell from them. Not a hand touching him, leaving fingerprints of need. Not the fleeting way in which Tyler Breeze seemed to address his own self-worth. Not any of it, because they were not for him. This wasn’t going anywhere. Except for, maybe, cold showers.

“Hurry the fuck up so I can deal with this boner,” he yelled at the running shower. Above its thunderous roar he could just hear laughter and the sound was, strangely enough, music to his ears.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Regardless of what this part might indicate, if I manage to write all that I want to write there will be a happy ending. I just like my angst too much to get there already and not make them suffer a bit.

The rental car had survived the night in the hotel's parking lot and Fandango was happy to see it in one piece. Considering the type of people his company employed, it wasn't surprising to sometimes see a car ruined with pranks or some sort of way of goading someone into a feud. And they'd been feuding with fucking Goldust. He wouldn't have been surprised if the cool blue colour had somehow turned yellow.

Behind him he heard careful footsteps and the scrape of a suitcase suffering from too much weight. 

“Morning, Dan.”

Fandango raised his head slowly, then glanced back at where Breeze was standing. A smug grin framed his mouth. Because of course.

“ _Dan_?” he asked.

“What, you don't like my new nickname for you? I'm just showing affection.”

Affection that was just barely there if Fandango were concerned. Tyler had been nice enough since they started travelling, but it didn't feel quite real. Nothing about the man ever did. He didn't seem tangible. The glitter on their rental's floor, sure, and the phone that was always somewhere in reach, but not Tyler Breeze himself. He kept hidden behind a veneer of contempt and conceit. 

“I didn't know we'd crossed into the territory of nicknames already. I'll have to go think of some.”

Tyler smirked, then lifted his own suitcase – and bags, because one mere suitcase would never be enough – into the back of the car. He glanced at Fandango through his eyelashes.

“I don't know, I figured that we were there already, considering you get off at the thought of me when you disappear into the shower.”

Had he not been expecting something crude, Fandango might have startled. Instead he calmly pushed the other man's bags around so he had room for his. Tyler had a point – not that he'd ever actually done it, just been tempted – but then both had acknowledged that ages ago. By now it had become something Tyler liked to hone in on when he joked. A safe subject to bring up when he wanted to mess with Fandango's equilibrium.

It did, he had to admit. His attraction to the other man was obvious and Tyler used it. He'd undress easily in his presence, whisper in his ear, or make vulgar comments that had Fandango straining against his pants. The sad thing was, he'd once thought it was mutual, but the more time Fandango spent with him, the more he became convinced that Tyler Breeze didn't feel attraction. Certainly not for him. He just saw a beautiful thing and a way to use it. Even if that way was letting the beautiful thing use _him_. 

“Not sure 'Dan' is the one to go with,” he responded instead.

Tyler smiled, dancing around the car before opening the passenger side door. “I know, it's a bit plebeian. Maybe that's why it suits you so well.”

“Screw you.” 

The banter was pleasant enough. Tyler Breeze could be a vicious sparring partner, but it was one of the few times Fandango thought the other man was actually enjoying himself. Words were safe enough and could turn a situation in Tyler's favour in no time. Just some innuendo and he knew Fandango was his. 

“Maybe my nickname for you will be better. Eh, _Breezy_?”

Tyler stilled. The casual air dissipated immediately. Fandango tried to wrap his head around what he'd said wrong.

“Don't use that. It belongs to someone else.”

Fandango closed the boot of the car, then fumbled with his keys. He didn't know what to say. They'd been joking around comfortably and he'd somehow turned this whole situation serious.

“Okay,” he said weakly. “I'll come up with something better.”

His skin itched as Tyler looked at him, expression morphing from blankness into begrudged amusement. Maybe a touch of fondness, even. He'd take it.

“I know you can be more original than that, at least. You can dance circles around anyone's nickname choices, can't you?”

Fandango swivelled his hips and laughed when he caught a well timed eye roll. “My hips don't lie and everything.”

Tyler's fingers were messing with the tangled lines of his headphones, but he did have time to leer at Fandango unabashedly and smirk. Damn the man.

“Is that an attempt to establish who should be on top in our little arrangement?”

Fandango just sighed, then motioned for the car. “Please get in before you give me a boner and it takes us even longer to get to the arena.”

Tyler just laughed.

~

By the time they'd made it to the arena Fandango was tired – keeping his attention on the road was a difficult enough task when it was just him and not someone as blatantly distracting as Tyler Breeze – and Tyler grumpy. The tight grip he held on his suitcase, bags piled on top, said enough. Fandango didn't even react when he was ignored quickly and left behind. The doors of the building closed with a snap while he went about unloading his own stuff.

It hadn't been anything he'd done, as far as he knew. The other man had received some texts that had turned him from amused to downright disgruntled and where the trip had started with a surprisingly long conversation about NXT and why Tyler had enjoyed that so much, it ended with some snappy retorts and Fandango deciding silence was the better option. Whatever the text messages had said, they'd left his friend in a snit.

So when he too made his way inside and waved his greetings to everyone – making sure to shake the hands of whoever required it – he wasn't even surprised when he heard raised voices nearby, one pitched to a familiarly angry tone.

“Well, well, what crawled up your ass today?” D-Von Dudley asked, side by side with his tag team partner and looking down at the mess of bags that rested at their feet. Fandango could guess what had happened.

“Nothing so much crawled up my ass as your big, disastrous feet somehow got in the way of my suitcase.”

Bubba Ray loomed, though probably not intending to seem quite as threatening as it appeared. Fandango could see the way Tyler's eyes had zoned in on the bigger man's. Bubba Ray Dudley had always been the one you least wanted to mess with.

“Is that right? I'm sorry, I hope we didn't ruin any of your make-up.”

A rustle of laughter. “As if I need make-up to look good.”

D-Von was about to speak up, but Tyler was faster. “Let me guess, you're going to make a quip about ruining my pretty face. If you wanted to touch you only had to ask! I know I can be distracting.”

“What?!” D-Von sputtered. “I am not gay, you fuckin-”

“Oh, get off his case,” Fandango interrupted as he pushed past them. He knew he didn't have the political clout to make such demands, but it was pissing him off how easily the two of them considered his friend quite that beneath them. School yard bullies who picked on who they deemed was weak. He'd always had a fairly easy-going relationship with them, but right now the two looked at him like he'd grown a second head. 

“I think this whole tag team business is getting to you, if you're defending his prissy ass,” Bubba said over his shoulder. “You realize it's not going to mean anything, right? One of you gets canned, or they forget all about you, and, _BAM_ , gone outrageously gay duo. I'll be surprised if it lasts through the month.”

Fandango shrugged. “Fair enough.”

It wasn't the reply they'd been hoping for, looking at their expressions. He'd learned early on that agreeing and nodding your head politely took care of a lot of drama. Even if it made his pride shrivel and die.

They'd been friendly, though barely so, and he'd made sure to keep it that way. He supposed he could get away with saying something now because of that, because Bubba looked down at Tyler's things with some contempt and then shrugged too, nudging D-Von to follow.

Fandango waited for his partner to pick up his bags, then headed for the locker room. It was empty when they arrived, which was probably for the best considering the dead silence that had clung to the two of them while they walked. He knew to expect some sort of confrontation. It didn't take long.

“Such a hero,” Tyler drawled, but there was surprising anger to it. “I guess you just solved all my problems.”

Fandango watched calmly as the blond tore through one of his bags, occasionally throwing some garment or another on the table. Strands of his hair had escaped, now brushing his cheek, and Fandango just stared at it. The clipped words that flew at him barely registered.

“Does it make you feel better, saving the damsel in distress? Does it make your dick hard?” 

He sighed.

“Do you get off on it at night? Trying to see what you have to do before I fall to my knees and everything?”

Tyler was stalking through the room now and Fandango'd had enough. He grabbed Tyler's arm and pulled. The man hadn't been expecting it and almost tripped over his own feet, looking up at him like he'd done something inexcusable. Fandango didn't care.

“I did it because I _wanted to_. Because they were being assholes. Stop always ascribing ulterior motives to me. I am not _that_ desperate for a fuck.”

“Don't act like you haven't thought about it,” Tyler spat. “I've seen you look. They all do. You're nothing special.”

“I _know_ that.”

And he did. They were reluctant friends, at best, and somewhat capable tag partners. They had things in common and a fairly equal flair for the dramatics, but that's all it was. A convenient pairing born out of Fandango making a quick decision and Tyler being amused by it. Amazed by it, even, if the footage he'd seen had been any indication. The look on his face had taken Fandango's breath away and he should have known then that this was going to be a right mess. Tyler Breeze being mesmerized by someone choosing _him_ , of all people, should have said enough. 

So he couldn't go there. He couldn't give Tyler what they both knew he wanted. Because he didn't want to be like that. He was a vain, shallow person, but he was not _that_. 

Fandango balled his fists. Opposite him Tyler still stood, chest heaving and face tinged with red. He'd released his hair from its bounds and it was now whipping about with every hurried movement. Knowing him, he'd be angry for a while, especially once he realized how much he'd shown in his tantrum.

“I'm a big boy.” One of his furry vests went flying. It crumpled on the floor. “I don't need some white knight heroically defending me from bullies in the hopes I'll make cow eyes at him.”

“I don't get why you're so angry,” Fandango mumbled. 

“Because I _don't understand you_!” Fandango watched his facade crumble further. “You want me. I know you do. You act all nice and chivalrous and take my abuse, but when I offer what I know you want you say no. And it doesn't make sense!”

“Tyler...”

They were face to face now, about equal in height, and Fandango didn't know what to say. How was he supposed to explain anything to a man who probably wouldn't understand. Who might even deem it a personal affront that he wasn't accepting what Tyler considered freely given. Who didn't see that Fandango was trying very hard not to use Tyler like he was as throw-away as others saw their tag team.

Tyler was touching him again, as he did so often and so torturously every time he was in the mood to push Fandango's buttons. The blond's gaze had dropped down and a hand brushed against Fandango's crotch, not caring for the rough denim that separated them. (He'd gotten enough crap for wearing the denim pants in question and was now considering ritually burning them. Maybe it'd cheer Tyler up.)

“I only have to look at your cock and it wants me,” Tyler mused, then looked back up. “So why don't _you_?”

Fandango closed his eyes instead, not wanting to meet his gaze. “Please don't.”

It took some seconds, but he could feel Tyler exhale against his skin and then step back. The distance made it a lot more bearable.

“You're right, I'm attracted to you,” he whispered. “My body wants you. _I_ might want you. But do you want me? Honestly _want_ me and not because you think it's easy and because you think it'll buy you my loyalty? If it was up to you and you weren't lying to yourself? Would you want _me_?” 

Fandango's chest was still heaving slightly and if they'd looked in the mirror both would have been appalled at how out of sorts they looked. Angry, flushed – not in a nice way – and in Tyler's case with a wild mess of hair. 

Tyler turned his head, looking at the door. “No.”

It was soft, but clear. It was what Fandango had expected, so he was almost angry at the way his entire body twinged. This wasn't rejection so much as confirmation. He'd known. Just because the other man seemed to like him didn't mean he'd accept anything from him, let alone return feelings that shouldn't have been there in the first place.

“That's why.”

Tyler huffed, maybe frustrated with the answer he'd received. He grabbed a pair of pants and started changing, probably not even realizing that this really wasn't the time to walk around in nothing but skintight underwear. Fandango turned his head, only turning back when Tyler had finished pulling up his pants and had stopped directly in front of him. Blue eyes bored into him, still a tinge of confusion to them.

“But I'm _offering_. It's not like it'd be a hardship.” He motioned for Fandango's body as if it were answer enough. “It's not like you'd be forcing me.”

“Wow, you have very high expectations.”

Tyler scowled. “Don't turn this into some sort of joke.”

“I'm not. That's exactly the point. This isn't a joke and I'm not fucking you just because you think I should be.”

The blond threw his hands in the air dramatically, as if Fandango was an outright idiot for saying something like that. He probably was. He could hear the other man mutter insults under his breath as he tied his hair back up. Roughly. Into a bun he normally wouldn't have been seen dead in. He picked up a random vest from where it'd fallen – this too showing how upset he still was, considering it didn't match his tights – and then moved to the door. It swung open just as he was about to grab it, revealing Dean Ambrose with raised palms. He'd probably heard quite a bit of that.

“Honeymoon over already? I can come back later, if ya want. Or maybe provide some marriage counselling?”

“Mind your own fucking business,” Tyler snarled, not even stopping, and Fandango just watched him go. Ambrose winced dramatically, but his smirk said he wasn't too affected. Amused at worst.

“He seems high maintenance.”

Fandango shrugged, but didn't bother to reply. Ambrose shrugged as well, then waved his hand. 

“Hey, if that's yer thing more power to ya. It just seems like a lot of unnecessary hassle.”

Fandango's eyes narrowed. “You started a feud with Chris Jericho over a _potted plant_ and his fucking _wardrobe_.”

“'kay, 'kay!” Ambrose laughed. “Fair point. I'm just not sure all that drama is worth it, ya know?”

Fandango sighed. “Probably not.”

He just couldn't help himself.


End file.
